


Tobacco, Incense, Tea

by spicedrobot



Series: Ko-fi Strawpoll Compilation [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Biting, Bodily Fluids, Dirty Talk, Human Zenyatta, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sloppy Seconds, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: On a mission to restore a watchpoint, Jesse makes an unfortunate discovery.





	Tobacco, Incense, Tea

****Jesse’s learned a few things in the last nine hours. Things that would’ve served him well before he accepted this mission.

One. Tekhartha Zenyatta is an alpha. Genji’s status comes as no surprise; he remembers when the ninja was more domineering and bloodthirsty than any of his type. His master, however, had always seemed excluded from the power plays and pheromones that controlled some thirty percent of the population. Enough for Jesse to lower his guard. Enough that between Genji, with his carefully controlled dominance and Zenyatta’s non-presenting aura, he’d fallen into their duo easily. Let himself get too close.

Two. Contrary to Angela’s diagnosis, he is most definitely able to have heats. Jesse hadn’t had one in years, body ruined from trauma and poor care, or so they had thought. It's the only reason he’d been assigned to restore a remote watchpoint with the pair.

Three. Genji and Zenyatta are nearing the height of their ruts.

Four. Jesse’s at the cusp of his own heat.

Five. He’s _fucked_.

The closest town’s a few hours out, and by then it’d be too late. Better mindless and heat stupid in a covert location than trapped en route with a sixty million bounty on his head.

So Jesse sits in the kitchen. It’s as far away as he can get from their room without arousing suspicion, though it’s only a matter of time.

He swears as he shakily lights his cigarillo. He takes a long drag, the quiver in his hands matching the pattering of his heart, the slowly building heat that settles heavy in his gut.

Jesse could lock himself in his room. Hoard snacks from the pantry and endure what is shaping up to be a wallop of a heat.

The problem is...he shakes his head. The problem is he doesn’t really _want_ to do that.

Muscled, scarred Genji whose short stature holds unbelievable strength and quiet, controlled dominance. He knew his scent long ago: spiced and sharp like dry wood and bitter tea. Then there’s Zenyatta: freckled and lean, a picture of serenity, his scent enticingly faint like ancient incense. The type of smell that makes you want to breathe deep to get every note. When they’re together, he feels at ease. At home. Now–

His lips thin as he represses a shiver.

He could shove his way into their room; a few lungfuls of his scent would have them—he slams his fist against the table. It’s sick, thinking stuff like that. He ain’t a monster.

Jesse stands abruptly and spends the next few minutes raiding the pantry. He returns to the table, settling his bounty next to him, smokes another cigarillo. Pours himself a glass of whiskey and shoots it, savoring the few seconds of heat that distracts him from another several inches lower.

He refills his glass.

He waits for the inevitable.

* * *

Something wakes him up.

Heat drunk and a little normal drunk, he blearily lifts his head from the halo of his arms. Jesse groans, his expanding consciousness a painful reminder that he’s aching and alone in the kitchen and—

He smells...he breathes deep before he can stop himself. Dried tea and spice, a sweat-laced mix of scents that’ve plagued him for hours.

A dull thud. Another. Then—

A moan that burns to the tips of Jesse’s ears. He knows that voice, fantasized the very same lying on his stiff cot in Blackwatch’s barracks with his hands snaked into his pants.

It takes him several moments to realize that he shouldn’t be able to hear them. They’re close. Too close. No one stops mid rut. They’d taken food into their room with them, no need for an impromptu visit to the kitchen. Unless they...another sound, throaty and shocked, tailed by a growl that tightens his whole body.

Zenyatta says something low and imperceptible. Something Jesse strains to hear, and he’s met instead with another thump, a wet, obscene smack. They groan in unison. Lord, their _scents_. A damn rare thing, alphas mating, and christ, that’s what they’re doing, close enough for Jesse to smell and hear them, and his face reddens like sweet wine, his insides pulsing traitorously when the rhythmic sounds of their coupling picks up.

Numb and stupid, slicking his own boxers, god _damn_ it, he didn’t have enough pairs for this. He staggers to his feet, cock straining the front of his sweatpants. There’s no hiding it, how he wants them, even if his scent—can they smell him? They must know he’s here, why else would—those _bastards_.

Jesse clings to that dull anger, the only thing separating him from heat and tipsiness, and stumbles into the hallway before his mind catches up with him.

“Do ya really have to do that here?” he barks.

Then he blinks.

Then he nearly swallows his tongue.

They’re naked. Naked, with Genji’s legs clutching the narrow slice of Zenyatta’s waist, those long, graceful hands pinning Genji to the wall. They stop moving, Zenyatta buried inside him, Genji flattened to his mate, eyes burning with the glow of his dragon. The smell is indescribable, smacking Jesse like sucker punch. He does his best to breathe in slow, short puffs, teeth latching onto his lower lip. His gaze drops, finds the thick swell of Genji’s cock straining against his stomach, the curve of his balls, hairy and tight, the faint jut of his knot. Ready to swell without a thing touching it, thick from Zenyatta fucking him.

It’s quiet for several moments.

Zenyatta tilts his head, the slightest upturn of his full lips. He moves, a single, shallow thrust, and Genji moans, eyes boring into Jesse. Like he’s the one being claimed and fucked against a wall. Like he’s devouring _him_.

Jesse sputters. He can’t help it. He’s a second from running away. He’s a second from running to them.

“Yh...y’all wanted to be found.” He tries for anger, but his voice dies as Zenyatta’s soft smile becomes as devious as anything Genji’s ever flashed at him.

He watches helplessly as Zenyatta pulls back, far enough that Genji’s (huge, scarred, beautiful) thighs don’t hide the main event. The long, pretty line of Zenyatta’s cock draws out slowly, inch by inch, giving Jesse just a glimpse of that rosy tip before he sinks back into the warm clench of Genji’s body.

“Oh...fuck…” Jesse drags his hand over his face, hot, prickling with sweat. “Uh…”

His legs are jellied and useless beneath him, a rivulet of slick slipping down his inner thigh. Jesse sees the exact moment they smell it, pupils dilating in the gloom, nostrils flared.

“You should return to your quarters,” Zenyatta says quietly. There’s a tightness between his brows, a look that prickles the back of his neck, heating Jesse through. “Or come here.” He licks his lips.

Jesse wonders if he’s imagining the flicker of gold ringing his pupils.

It’s a way out. They strain to stay still, to not rush him. Would they fight to be the first to claim him? Would instinct drown them if he lingered?

A rutting alpha would do anything for a mate. Pursue, fight. Kill. Jesse’s too old to want something so reckless. That inescapable. He looks between them, facing off against the deep-seated want that’s been haunting him ever since he saw them together all those months ago.

He makes his choice.

“Alright.”

* * *

Somehow there’s a mattress under Jesse’s back.

They had descended in a fury with needy, calloused hands, their scent overwhelming, softening his thoughts.

“E-easy now,” Jesse whimpers, sweltering, dizzied from the influx of scent. In their room, then, already saturated with the smell of their ruts.

A hand shifts through the hair between his pecs, tugging with a mean sort of playfulness. Genji. A nose brushes beneath his ear, a quiet inhale. Zenyatta.

“You wished to hide something so tantalizing,” he murmurs, taking another drag, lips parting with a soft wet sound, catching along his pulsepoint.

“You’re one to talk,” Jesse replies, twisting his head to the side, offering his throat with a breathless huff.

Zenyatta drags his teeth along the tender swatch of skin, making Jesse _leak_. Each minute touch has him groaning, straining as Genji’s mouth descends on a nipple. They’re being quite gentlemanly, all things considered. Hands balanced above the waist. He can’t decide if he should be disappointed.

“The Shambali teach self-suppression,” Genji says into Jesse’s skin before sucking and twisting the other nipple, swollen and tight from their touch. “Destroying the restraint of a master was quite satisfying.”

“That is not how I remember it at all,” Zenyatta hums, though there’s a smile in his tone, a capriciousness to his bites along the muscles of Jesse’s throat.

Jesse grabs the back of Zenyatta’s neck, his other fisting in Genji’s hair, pressing him harder against his chest. Genji moans around the trembling flesh, scrapes with his teeth, and Jesse nearly thrashes. The quips are hard to follow when he’s making a mess of the sheets, clenching his thighs together, twisting, wanting.

“Fellas. Fight later, please–”

“Feeling needy, cowboy?” Genji murmurs with a grin.

He palms just beneath Jesse’s pecs, lifting and kneading, thumbs swiping over his spit-slick nipples in slow circles. And damn, doesn’t that do it for Jesse somehow, having his chest groped; he grits his teeth to stop the worst of his whimpers.

“How do you want us to fuck you?” Genji says with a laugh, tugging and plucking at the soft, hairy mass of his pecs, seeing how tightly they can press together, a channel for Genji’s cock, perhaps, when he’s not about to burst from his own desire.

“I-inside me, please.”

“Both of us?”

Jesse’s cock pulses, slapping against his stomach, coating his pubes with pre. He doesn’t have enough blood for this, face beet red and cock as hard as it’s been since his teen years.

“Don’t think I can…”

Zenyatta leans back and shares a look with Genji. For a single moment, he wonders if they’ll fight. Could Jesse take two knots back to back, even in his heat? His mind races. They’d cram him full, his body’d be a mess afterwards. Having a knot gently eased out of him for a second time, a deluge of cum and slick coating his thighs, a delicious ache he would feel for days...

They're both watching him. Genji nods. Zenyatta reaches for Jesse in slow motion, his hand capturing his cock. A swear flies from Jesse's lips, embarrassing and eager.

"P-please, 'm...'m close...I..."

"So soon? I have further use for this." His smile turns wicked. "Though if I take you now, you would not last more than a few seconds."

It should sting his pride, but he can't be assed with things like that now, not when Zenyatta's still touching him and Genji's joining in on it, returning to his chest, keeping his head angled to watch Jesse's cock leak all over his master's fingers. One tawny hand slips beneath, tracing Jesse's hole, and he whimpers, high and lost. How long had it been since his last proper heat with a partner to help him? Ones that cared about him as more than a warm body to fatten with their knot?

He fists his hands into the sheets, body twisting, tensing, moan lodged in his throat. Genji bites his nipple, gently tongues the tip, and that's all it takes; he spills over Zenyatta's hand, still moving in the same, slow, even motion, patient and sure. His orgasm lasts for an embarrassing amount of time, several thick strands roping onto his stomach, one even catching Genji's cheek. Jesse's never going to be able to look at Zenyatta's hands after this, remembering how easily they worked him to helplessness.

Genji smears his finger through the mess on his cheek, slipping it past his own lips.

Jesse shudders.

"You’re such a tease. You know that, right?" He says, voice rough like he'd finished a pack of cigarillos.

"Not true. I always make good on my flirting."

Genji dips down, drags his tongue along Jesse's messy stomach while Zenyatta strokes between his thighs, along his hole, molten and tingly, unbelievably sensitive, throbbing for more.

If he ever needed two alphas for a heat, it’s this one. Or perhaps it’s because of them—not something he can ponder now. Not as Genji laps up his cum with relish, hot lashes of his tongue that shoot pleasure down to where Zenyatta’s teasing shivers and groans out of him.

“On your knees, Jesse.”

The command shorts out his thoughts for a few moments. Hands urge him to the side, and he moves quickly then, needing more than just helpful guides. Beads of sweat roll down his temple; he needs more. He _needs_.

Genji’s hands grasp his waist, stroking his flanks, almost ticklish, the ninja’s chin rests on his shoulder. He bites where Zenyatta did earlier, marking him harder; the skin must be mottled with their marks already. It distracts him enough that Zenyatta’s already settled beneath him, spreading his legs. Jesse can’t help it; he stares. Those tattered, loose pants were hiding a gorgeous, slender pair of them. His mouth falls open as Zenyatta curls an arm around the backs of his knees, pulling his legs up—offering himself to Jesse, his ass flushed and slick.

Realization settles like a weight.

“Enjoy my handiwork?” Genji’s words warm his ear, and Jesse bends forward a few inches, mouth dry, eyeing the curve of Zenyatta’s knot, thicker than Genji’s had been, ready to fill.

Zenyatta laughs, low and deep, his eyes narrowed pleasantly. His other hand frames the space beneath his balls, spreading it ever so slightly, a dribble of Genji’s spend slipping out.

“Please,” the monk asks quietly, a neediness to his voice that hasn’t been there before.

Jesse scrabbles for his own cock, grabbing the base harder than necessary. He taps it once against Zenyatta’s ass, watching the man’s expression glaze over, mouth parting as he pushes forward with purpose; his ass opens for him with fiendish ease.

He’s smooth and slick, fluttering around his cock, and Jesse’s eyes roll back. Zenyatta’s sounds go breathy and shocked as he feeds him each slow inch at a time.

“He likes this best, you know,” Genji whispers loud enough for both to hear.

Zenyatta bites the back of his hand and moans.

Genji’s cock presses against Jesse’s ass, rubbing hot and wet. His fingers find Jesse’s hole, his slick coating them instantly, and he draws lazy circles against it, dipping the tips inside.

“An alpha that wants nothing more than to waste his knot coming on a cock instead.”

Jesse bottoms out, barely able to comprehend Genji’s heated babbling, not when Genji’s cock replaces his fingers, sliding along his hole, rutting against it in quick, harried jerks that force Jesse’s thrusts faster.

“G-Genji—!!” Zenyatta gasps.

“Damn it, Genji, fuck me,” Jesse says at nearly the same time.

He grabs Zenyatta’s thighs and tugs the alpha to him, thrusts short and deep, unsure if he can stop the orgasm building like a storm. The resounding slaps join Zenyatta’s deep gasps and Genji’s heavy breathing as he lines up his cock and finally pushes into him.

Jesse shouts; he can’t help it, the sound ripped from him as Genji fills him in a single push. He snaps forward, a litany of swears so intense he’s not even sure what he’s saying, his body heaving as his cock throbs inside Zenyatta, filling him with thick, pulsing loads.

He sees without really registering Zenyatta’s glassy eyes, round with awe, lower lip captured between his teeth as he feels every spurt and twitch of Jesse inside him.

Blearily, Jesse waits to be teased, but a sort of pleasant mindlessness settles over him, instincts softening his guilt. Instead, Genji growls, flattens to his back and starts fucking him. Hard. Any flagging of his own cock vanishes the instant Genji’s brutal pace starts up, his cock catching against all the right places, the primordial part of Jesse’s mind locked on a single word: yesyesyes _yes_ —

His reckless motions shove him into Zenyatta, who watches them both with rapt attention. He grasps Jesse’s shoulders, clinging to him, teeth against his neck while he whines into his skin. The most helpless to the whim of Genji’s shoving, the mist of the dragon’s glow at the edge of Jesse’s vision.

He comes once more, locked between them, teeth at this both sides of his throat, and Genji must sense something Jesse can’t, because he shoves forward and holds hard, gnawing Jesse’s back while Zenyatta thrashes and seizes around him.

“Zen—fuck—jesus christ—” Jesse cries out, trapped as the monk spills between them with a burst of golden light, the harsh swell of his knot filling against his stomach. Zenyatta rocks into it, trembling for whatever stimulation he can get.

“Grab his arms. Don’t let him touch it.”

Zenyatta whimpers as Jesse’s hands flatten his wrists to either side of his head. He collapses on top of him, worried a moment for his weight, but every thought is a ghost when Genji’s fingers sink into his hips and he lays into him, the rapid smack of his balls loud between the gasps and whimpers.

“Just the way he likes it,” Genji sounds fiendish. “Want me to breed you up too? You can feel it, right?”

Jesse makes sounds he didn’t even know he could.

“I’m close. You want it?”

He’s not even sure he can form the words he needs, unable even to angle his hips back. Genji controls each thrust, their positions entirely. He gives Genji the only word left in his mind.

“Y-yes—”

Genji bites his throat hard, just what he needs, breaks the skin, slams into him as deeply as he can, yell muffled against Jesse’s body. His knot seals him up like a dream, pumping him hot and full shockingly quick, stomach and mind heavy with it. He’s drooling, he thinks, when he has the brainpower to think it. Zenyatta’s kissing him, and he’s kissing back, suddenly, madly, claiming that soft, full mouth, what little power he has, trapped on Genji’s knot.

Genji trembles above him, lost in his rut, his smart words broken into harsh whimpers and deep, ragged gasps. Each quake tugs the knot against his rim, and Jesse feels prickly and sated, lazy now that the deed’s done.

Sluggishly, Genji maneuvers Jesse, following him to the mattress, easing him out of Zenyatta with a wet, slick slide. The monk gapes and flexes, and Jesse’s cum spills out of him in a rush. The two watch as Zenyatta drags a trembling hand through the mess, then as he cups and squeezes his knot, more slick leaking out of that pretty cock that Jesse suddenly wants to taste.

Genji leans in, and Jesse kisses him, lips scarred and chapped, and he relishes every moment, feels Genji twitch inside him, giving him more. Zenyatta reaches between their bodies, traces Jesse’s hole stretched to the brink, cants his head.

“Ready for round two?” Genji asks.

“Come again?” Jesse stammers.

“We intend to do just that,” Zenyatta says, fingers pressing more intently at where Genji’s locked inside him.

“Like a buncha damn teenagers,” Jesse grumbles, though it’s impossible to be angry, not when he’s claimed and coddled, warm and safe, between them.

In a few minutes, his body would be needy all over again.

“Just give me a second.”

And they do, kissing and stroking, slow, lazy touches for comfort over stimulation. As soon as Genji’s knot fades enough to pull out, Zenyatta takes his place, an obscene squelch overshadowing Jesse’s fucked out groan. They lay on their sides, Genji and Jesse facing Zenyatta, Jesse between them. Genji leans forward, biting Zenyatta's neck as possessively as they had bitten Jesse, kisses him until they moan into each others’ mouths.

When they part and turn their sights to Jesse, the only sound the sloppy smacks of Zenyatta filling him, Jesse thinks with what sanity he has left that he could get used to this.


End file.
